


The End Is Where We Start From

by remuslives23



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU after Exit Wounds, M/M, bbc medley, coffee god!Ianto, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:43:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2956223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslives23/pseuds/remuslives23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack chose a new beginning after Toshiko and Owen's deaths; one that didn't include Ianto or Torchwood. Ten years later, Ianto has moved on. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bbc_medley. I'd never heard 'Diamonds and Rust' before, but loved it on first listen. I read some background about it and this idea came along.

Ianto Jones sipped his coffee, hiding his wince at the bitter, grainy taste from the eager new trainee: a scrawny, twenty-year-old trainee with halitosis and an unfortunate love of non-breathable fabrics despite the wet heat that made the air feel thick and heavy. Ianto tried to breathe sparingly and through his mouth; he wasn't sure he could take the multi-pronged attack on his senses this early in the day.

'Thank you, Geoff,' he said, quickly turning towards his desk in an unmistakable gesture of dismissal. Geoff scampered away, and Ianto inhaled deeply, screwing up his nose when the lingering odour of stale sweat tickled his nostrils. He slid open his window then reclined in his indulgent leather chair to enjoy the light breeze that picked up strands of his damp hair and cooled the sheen of sweat slicking his forehead.

He stretched his legs out under his desk, wincing a little at the dull ache in his left knee. The bloody humidity played havoc with his joints this time of year. His knees were the knees of a man ten years his senior according to his doctor; the legacy of spending too much time running around Cardiff after aliens, and treading up and down stairs in a damp underground hideaway. (He preferred not to think about how much time he'd spent on his knees in that same hideaway because that encouraged reminiscing about the cock that had been shoved in his mouth or up his arse whilst his knees were pressing painfully into the floor, and that invariably led to thoughts of the man said cock was attached to... It was a hornet's nest best left unpoked.)

Ianto yawned and turned to stare out the window at the bright blue sky. He ignored the twinge in his chest when twinkling eyes the very same colour of the northern Queensland sky immediately came to mind. Even after ten years, after relocating halfway around the globe, there were reminders of his past everywhere he looked. Ianto focused on a cotton candy cloud as it drifted across the sky as memories assailed him.

Tosh and Owen's deaths.

Gwen's tears and her proclamation that she didn't think she could do it anymore.

Jack's words – 'The end is where we start from' – which had sounded so reassuring in the moment, but when Gwen moved away, Ianto had seen the shadows in Jack's eyes, had seen the distance he'd already begun to put between himself and what remained of his team, and he knew.

Jack was already gone.

Gwen hadn't seen it and had expected Jack to be her immovable mountain, her sun and her moon, her constant. Her grief at losing him to the stars - coming so closely on the heels of losing Tosh and Owen - was all-consuming, and the usually ferociously determined woman clung desperately to the ones she had left for support and reassurance. Rhys was happy to provide the strength his wife needed, but Ianto – who knew Jack's faults, who, after Jack's first disappearance, had never again allowed the other man to become his world – refused to let Gwen's sorrow and Jack's cowardice drag him under as well.

So, he had freed Myfanwy to torment the sheep of the Brecon Beacons and sent Janet back to the sewers before turning the Hub over to UNIT and a fretful Martha Jones. Ianto's last act as a Torchwood operative was to kiss a teary Gwen goodbye and wish her well before he followed Jack's lead and left Cardiff in his dust.

Torchwood might have crushed his soul, but it had been good to his wallet so he took some time off before he started contemplating what he was going to do with the rest of his suddenly extended life. He made his way through Europe – loitering for several months in Italy when he discovered the Italian people were every bit as passionate as rumoured – then spent a little time in the USA before finding himself on a plane to Australia.

After the cloying pollution and oppressive crowding in New York, he'd felt exposed and vulnerable when he finally stepped off the domestic flight he'd taken from Brisbane to Mackay. He could taste the tang of salt in the air, feel the sticky cling of it on his sun-warmed skin, so he headed East until he hit the ocean. As he stood there on the heated sand, shoes in his hands, watching the pink-and-purple streaked sky darken into star-studded black, he smiled.

It was beautiful. It was freeing. It was home.

He'd settled in a small but busy tourist town on the coast and found regular work as a barista. Twelve months later, the opportunity arose for him to buy his own coffee shop and - with a well-intact sense of irony that Jack's frequent predictions that Ianto would one day own a coffee franchise had come true – he jumped at it. One shop quickly morphed into two then three until, seven years later, he owned a chain of stores scattered liberally throughout his adopted home state.

Ianto was thirty-five now, successful, still had all his hair – albeit a little grey at the temples – and his figure, and was getting regular sex from a variety of sources who claimed to 'adore' his accent, despite the fact it had dulled under the onslaught of the blunt vowels of his co-workers. He was more relaxed, contented, and tanned than he'd ever been before. Life was good, and that really should have been a warning of impending upheaval. He should have predicted that – as he sat contemplating his satisfaction with his current circumstances – the door would open and allow his past to stride arrogantly on through because his life so far had just been one massive fuck over after another at the hands of the Gods.

I must be slipping, he mused as a tall, blue-eyed figure appeared in the doorway. The familiar blue coat was gone, as were the braces, and Ianto was smugly pleased to note a few grey hairs glinting in the sunshine that poured through the window, but Jack Harkness still managed to fill up an entire room with the force of his smile.

'Ianto Jones,' he grinned, holding his arms out either side of his body as if he were waiting for Ianto to run into them.

At first, Ianto could only stare at him, forcing back everything he'd wanted to say-sob-scream at the other man for the last decade, then he pulled his composure around him like a shield and turned to his personal assistant, Jean, whose usual unflustered countenance had crumbled under the weight of the Harkness charm.

'Did Captain Harkness...' He turned to Jack whose smile was wavering. 'I'm assuming you still use that name?' At Jack's nod, Ianto glanced back at the flushed woman. 'Did Captain Harkness have an appointment I wasn't made aware of?'

Jean regained some common sense, her green eyes darting from Ianto to Jack then back again. 'No,' she admitted, worry creasing her brow. 'I'm sorry, Mr Jones. I don't know...'

Ianto shook his head. 'Don't worry about it,' he said resignedly, standing slowly and buttoning his jacket. 'I doubt you could have stopped him even if you'd had the wherewithal to try. You can leave us.'

Jean slunk out the door, closing it softly behind her. Ianto inhaled deeply, suddenly feeling like he did the very first time he was alone with Jack – excited, invigorated, terrified. 'Hello, Jack.'

The grin flashed at full strength again. 'You look good,' Jack said, eyes roaming over Ianto's body with a familiar hunger that sparked a visceral response. Ianto cursed the man and his potent pheromones for what had to be the millionth time and edged around his desk. Jack's hand twitched noticeably as Ianto approached. Ianto glared at him as he strode past to open the door, and instead of reaching for him as Ianto suspected was the plan, Jack slipped both hands into his trouser pockets.

'Ianto, we...' Jack said as Ianto stared pointedly at the open door, but Ianto made an impatient noise and interrupted him.

'We aren't doing this here,' Ianto told him, nodding his head towards the reception area. 'After you, sir.'

Jack started, his eyes wide as a grin began to blossom. 'Sir,' he said with an air of fond reminiscence that made Ianto wonder just how long Jack had been gone. 'I've missed that.'

'Don't get used to it,' Ianto said bluntly. 'That one's for old time's sake. Now, are you coming or not?'

Jack inclined his head and walked past Ianto, throwing Jean a wink as he headed for the exit. Ianto ignored Jean's giggle and the sudden flash of colour in her cheeks and instructed her to cancel everything on his schedule for the rest of the day before he followed Jack.

Their kiss was raw and needy as they burst through the door of Ianto's house, hands scrambling at clothes, ripping-tearing-pulling at the barriers between them until there was nothing but skin and sweat and ten years of resentment and anger and secrets. They crashed to the floor, Ianto groaning in pain as his hip took the brunt of the impact. He could feel Jack's cock hard against his thigh, already leaking pre-come and leaving a damp trail across Ianto's skin as Jack rutted against him.

'Missed this,' Jack mumbled into Ianto's throat, breath hot and lies cold on Ianto's skin. Ianto growled and twined his fingers in Jack's hair, jerking hard. Jack exhaled sharply as his head snapped up and back then hissed when Ianto's teeth sank into the flesh under his chin.

'Liar,' Ianto whispered, the word coarse and bereft of any of the affection it held a decade ago when he used to kiss it into Jack's skin. His hand snaked between them and grasped Jack's shaft tightly, twisting and pumping fast and rough. Jack panted into Ianto's mouth as he claimed his lips again in a crushing kiss, his fingers closing around Ianto's cock and lining it up with his own. He pushed Ianto's hand away, squeezing their erections together with one of the big, calloused hands Ianto still dreamed about. Ianto whimpered, arching up into Jack's touch, and heard Jack echo the desperate sound.

Jack pumped his fist, rubbing his thumb firmly over their side-by-side glans, gathering their combined pre-come before snapping his wrist savagely. Ianto swore and clutched at Jack's arse, fingers digging into the fleshy buttock, thumb delving into the crease to thumb Jack's hole. Jack bucked his hips, shouting out a wordless cry as his hand picked up its pace.

'Come on, you bastard,' Ianto muttered, pushing the tip of his dry thumb inside Jack,his other hand sliding between them to tug at Jack's balls.

Jack swore – loudly – and, on his next upstroke, dragged a blunt fingernail over Ianto's slit. Ianto felt his orgasm coalescing in his balls, felt Jack's sac draw up and tighten, and then he was coming, brain whiting out as his breath caught and held in his chest. Only Jack could make him feel an orgasm in every fucking cell of his body. Only Jack could make him come and come and come until the pleasure morphed into something bordering pain and he couldn't remember his own name.

Only Jack.

Damn him to hell.

Jack was a dead weight on his chest when Ianto finally began to come back into himself, and he shoved at him with a grunt. 'Get off,' he complained, rolling a groaning Jack to the side and sitting up. He ran his hands through his hair, frowning as he tried to smooth the mess Jack had made, then pushed himself to his feet.

'Up,' he said shortly, kicking Jack's thigh as he fastened his trousers. He grimaced at the mess on his chest before he bent and scooped up Jack's white undershirt, taking an obscene amount of pleasure in wiping off their combined come with the soft fabric. He chanced a glance at a still-prone Jack, who was staring up at Ianto with a half-smirk on his face. Ianto felt a jolt of anger – both at himself and the smug arsehole on his hall floor – and threw the shirt at Jack's head. 'Let yourself out when you're dressed.'

'What? No post-coital snuggling?' Jack asked, voice muffled. He whipped the shirt off his face and grinned up at Ianto. 'You used to be a lot more cuddly.'

'Yeah, well,' Ianto mumbled as he padded towards the kitchen for a bottle of water. 'I used to be a lot of things I'm not now.' He looked over his shoulder at Jack, who had rolled onto his stomach to watch Ianto's departure. 'Including in love with you. Now either tell me what the hell you want or fuck off.'

He didn't wait for an answer, yanking open the fridge door and rummaging through the well-stocked shelves for water. He cracked the safety seal and threw the lid into the stainless steel sink before gulping down half the bottle in three long pulls. He felt a few escaping drops of chilled water trickle over his chin and down his throat, and he quickly caught them with his forearm. He closed his eyes and held the bottle to his brow, wishing the hot stab of regret in his gut could be eased by the cold liquid as easily as his thirst. The condensation on the sides of the bottle dampened his sweat-salty skin and dripped over the slope of his nose. He brushed the droplet away then sighed, tilting his head towards the doorway.

'You could never sneak up on me at the Hub,' he said wearily, memories of stale air, dank corridors, and musty archives that smelled of old paper rushing back. 'You've little chance of doing it in my own home.'

'You aren't happy to see me.'

Ianto snorted and quickly gulped down the last of the water. 'No,' he said when he'd finished. He dropped the bottle in the recycling bin and leaned against the counter, avoiding looking directly at Jack. 'It's been ten years, Jack.'

Jack was silent for a long, tension-filled moment then, in a low whisper... 'That long?'

Ianto crossed his arms over his chest, his shirt still gaping open as he frowned down at his feet. 'How long has it been for you?'

'Not sure. Maybe three Earth years. Give or take a few months.' He cleared his throat and shook his head. 'The Doctor's timing still leaves a lot to be desired. I meant to be back sooner rather than later. Much sooner. Ten years... God.'

There was another weighty silence then Jack murmured, 'I really have missed you.'

Ianto glanced up at him to check his sincerity then quickly looked back down at his socked feet when he saw the honest remorse written all over Jack's face. 'Must have been a shock then,' he said, attempting nonchalance. He watched his toes as he wriggled them against the slick tile. 'To see how much Gwen and I have aged.'

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Cautiously, he looked over and saw Jack leaning against the door frame, hands in the pockets of his undone trousers. Ianto's gaze caught on the tight curls that thickened as they trailed from his navel to his groin then he shook himself as Jack spoke.

'Haven't seen Gwen,' he said soberly, tilting his head back and staring at Ianto through hooded eyes. 'Tracked you down first.'

'Horny, were you?'

'Ianto...'

'What do you want, Jack?' Ianto snapped, reaching the end of his tether. 'Just cut the crap and tell me why you're here.'

Jack hesitated then said, 'I wanted to see you, see how you were.'

'Nostalgia?' Ianto asked scornfully. 'You've become one of those old men that sit around reminiscing about the good old days?'

'Hey, enough of the old, thank you,' Jack said with an exaggerated pout, but Ianto just continued to stare at him, heart hardened and face blank. Jack sighed and looked down at the floor, his big toe following the line of grout between the kitchen tiles.

'I couldn't shake you,' he said, voice low and all traces of levity gone. 'I've traveled around the universe, fucked goddesses, and royalty, and men and women so powerful they could bring about the end of entire planets with one single word...' He looked up, face weary and unsure, but more open and honest than Ianto had ever seen. 'And I couldn't get you out of my head.'

'Guilt?' Ianto said, raising an eyebrow, refusing to acknowledge the happy wriggle of what felt a lot like hope inside him. 'How unlike you.'

Jack's brow creased and his eyes were pained as he gazed at Ianto. 'It wasn't guilt.'

Ianto made a sceptical noise in his throat and turned his back on the other man, staring out the window at the ocean in the distance, sparkling a sapphire blue against an azure sky. He concentrated on his breathing – in and out, slow and steady – instead of the frantic pounding of his traitorous heart that wanted nothing more than to believe there was something other than selfishness in Jack's motives. He could hear Jack breathing, could hear the tiny hitch in each inhalation, and his skin warmed and vibrated with energy and desire as the other man moved closer.

'The Doctor's coming back for me in a day or so.'

The warmth vanished and an icy flush washed over Ianto. 'So, time enough to get some 'for old time's sake' fucking in before you go,' he said coolly. 'I'm an intergalatic booty call. Classy.'

Jack ignored Ianto's acerbic tone. 'Whether I go with him or stay here... that's up to you.'

Ianto's stomach flipped. He didn't want this. He didn't want to get his body or his heart all tangled up with Jack again. He couldn't. 'No,' he said shortly.

'Yes,' Jack insisted, so close now Ianto could feel his breath on his neck. 'That's why I've come back. I want to be with you, Ianto. I want to make up for the time we've lost.'

Ianto's head snapped around and he snarled, 'You are such a...' He cut himself off, determined not to let Jack get under his skin again. He tightened his lips and just shook his head. 'You should go.'

'I'm not going anywhere,' Jack said, folding his arms stubbornly over his chest. 'Not without you.'

'Well, I'm not going anywhere with you.'

'Then I'll stay right here. I'm not leaving you again, Ianto.'

Ianto snorted contemptuously. 'You'd live here?' At Jack's nod, he laughed in disbelief. 'You're going to live here. With me. Isn't that a little... domestic? Safe? Lacking challenge and adrenaline and many-armed aliens to shag?'

Jack shrugged. 'It's nice here. I could stand living in paradise.' He smiled sweetly, intimately at Ianto. 'And I'm not talking about the view.'

Ianto felt the flush crawling along his cheekbones and silently cursed the involuntary reaction to Jack's flattery. 'You couldn't do it.'

'I've done it before.'

'And you left!' Jack winced and opened his mouth, but Ianto got in first. 'You'd be bored to tears in a month, Jack. I can't do this with you again. I won't.'

He stormed past Jack, down the hall and flung open the front door. 'Get out,' he said firmly when Jack slowly moved out of the kitchen.

'No.'

'Get. Out. Jack.'

'We could be happy here together, Ianto.'

'There is no 'we'. There is you and there is me, but there was never nor will there be a 'we'.'

Jack continued on as if Ianto hadn't just spoken. 'Or you could come traveling with me and the Doctor.'

Ianto narrowed his eyes, his building tirade dying on his tongue. 'What?'

'You could come with me and I'll show you what's really out there. Not just the shit we used to get through the Rift, but the good stuff.' He approached Ianto, slowly, step by step, talking the whole way. 'We can swim in the sea at Tyris Five – the water is like silk against your skin. Or visit Nindon Psi and watch the sky explode with colour when the sun sets – you've never seen colours like these on Earth, Ianto. Or we could make love in the grass at Lyras, under the three moons.'

Jack hesitated then said softly, 'Or I could take you to a planet with two suns. Where the days are long and hot and the night's respite short. It's a desert planet and there isn't much to see there, but it's my home. It's Boeshane, and I'd really like for you to see it.'

Ianto stared at him, hope and regret twisting in his chest. When he was falling in love with Jack all those years ago, he would have given anything – anything – to hear that invitation, spoken with such sincerity. That was ten years ago. Ten years! And yet, still that hope seeped into his skin, spreading through his body with every beat of his heart until he could feel it in every single cell, every molecule.

And he hated himself for it.

'Get out,' he choked out, the order weak and insubstantial. He cleared his throat, willing some backbone into his voice. 'Get out. You're too late.'

'Ianto...'

'Get the fuck out!'

'Okay,' Jack said, backing off with his hands held out in the international gesture for surrender. 'Okay, I'll go.'

Ianto was breathing heavily as he leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted, and listened to Jack finish dressing. This is the right thing to do. You can't trust him not to break your heart.

Jack's scent preceded him and Ianto opened his eyes. He found himself staring directly at Jack, the man's face shining with determination. 'I've got a couple of days before the Doctor comes back,' he said, voice light but drenched with meaning. 'I think some time spent lying around a beach and drinking great coffee is just the break I need.'

Ianto turned his back on him, staring out the open door. He heard Jack sigh softly then there was a rustle of clothing, a low, 'I'll be seeing you, Ianto,' and he was gone.

Ianto's world felt colder already.

Just knowing Jack was in town was enough to put Ianto on edge. He was reticent all the next morning, snappish when an answer was required, and furious with himself when he realised he was looking for Jack around every corner. So he felt equal parts relief and irritation when Jack finally turned up just after one o'clock with a picnic basket and enthused, 'I'm taking you to the beach. I can't believe we lived in Cardiff so long and never went together.'

'We have been to the beach together before,' Ianto said testily, even as he put his desk to rights and diverted his office line to his mobile. 'It was a disaster.'

A wrinkle appeared between Jack's eyes as he thought then a smile lit his face. Ianto groaned at the sight of the smile that never failed to get an ingrained response from his capricious body.

'Oh, yeah. The Babaloo,' Jack recalled, a sentimental glint in his eye. 'That wasn't so bad.'

'You're not the one that ended up soaked on the coldest day in Cardiff's history.'

Jack bumped their shoulders together and slipped his hand into Ianto's. 'You're exaggerating and, anyway, it's warm here,' he said reassuringly. 'And I'm sure Babaloos prefer cold rather than tropical waters.'

'Comforting,' Ianto said dryly, tugging his hand out of Jack's grasp and heading for the door. 'I don't suppose you'll leave if I ask you to?'

'You suppose correctly.'

'Not even if I ask nicely?'

'I've always approved of your manners, but, sorry, no.'

Ianto sighed and quickly shucked his jacket and tie, hanging them on a hook behind the door. 'Alright, then,' he said, flicking open the first two buttons of his shirt one-handed as he opened the door with the other. 'Let's get this over with.'

He ignored the flush of heat Jack's approving glance at the newly exposed skin caused and told Jean she could contact his mobile if he was needed, rolling his eyes at her Harkness-induced blush as he went.

'I can see why you settled here,' Jack said, lying back on his elbows amidst the remains of their lunch. 'It's stunning.'

'It is,' Ianto agreed, stretching out beside him. Digging his toes into the warm sand, he squinted out over the sparkling ocean, watching the waves crest and crash against the sand and letting the hypnotic susurrus calm his frayed nerves.

Jack hadn't stopped rambling since they'd left Ianto's office - even managing to talk through mouthfuls of bread and chicken, much to Ianto's very vocal disgust. His incessant chatter had worked away at Ianto's self-control, which he was now holding onto by a increasingly fragile thread. Ianto exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, turning his face up to the sun as the beautiful late spring day worked its magic.

'Are you happy here?'

There was a tension underlying the soft tone, and Ianto opened his eyes, peering at Jack blearily through the bright glare as he readjusted to the light. 'I wouldn't stay unless I was,' he replied.

Jack nodded absently, fingers picking at a loose thread in the blanket beneath them. 'You... you were happy in Cardiff, though, weren't you? With Torchwood?'

The 'with me' was unspoken but lingered in the air around them as if the words had been shouted out. Ianto watched as Jack fidgeted under his scrutiny. Part of him wanted to soothe him, to hold him and ease his uncertainty. The other – larger – part of him, though, was still pretty damn pissed off, apparently.

'Yes, you made me happy, Jack,' he said, 'and then you left with your Doctor. You came back and made me happy again then you left once more. I'm sensing a pattern here – just when I need you the most, you run.' He exhaled sharply through his nose. 'If I was a psychologist, I'd have a field day with my abandonment issues.'

'I've always come back,' Jack said, so low Ianto almost missed it.

Almost.

'But first, you left.'

Jack flinched and looked off down the beach. 'I... I didn't ask yesterday - didn't want to know, really – but... is there someone else in your life?' He let out a huff of poorly disguised nervous laughter. 'Someone who doesn't keep leaving, perhaps?'

'No,' Ianto said, his mood souring further as his last semi-exclusive lover's angry accusations rang in his ears once again. 'I'm the one who leaves now.'

Jack gave him a sharp look, and Ianto sighed. He sat up and picked a white shell out of the sand, pretending to examine the grooves corrugating the surface as he spoke. 'I was shattered when you went with the Doctor the first time. You fixed me as best you could after you came back, but when Tosh and Owen died, you weren't there. I had to put myself back together, and it was fucking hard work.'

Ianto tossed the shell towards the wet sand along the shoreline then pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his trousers. 'I'm not prepared to do that again, Jack, not for anyone, but especially not for you because I'm not actually sure I'd survive you breaking me all over again.'

Jack hastily scrambled to his feet, sending a plate of their leftovers somersaulting across the blanket. 'You won't have to. I'm not planning on leaving you...'

'You never do, Jack, and yet, it still happens.'

Ianto's heart ached at the sight of the misery on Jack's face, but he cleared his suddenly tight throat and gestured towards the picnic. 'I'll help pack up then you can walk me back to the office and tell me all about the royalty you debauched on your time away.'

'Ianto...'

'Just... tell me a story, Jack,' Ianto insisted, desperation threading his words as he threw their rubbish haphazardly into the basket. 'You're good at that. Tell me about all the people you've fucked since me, remind me of how you can't stay in the one place with the one person because your feet start itching and you can't breathe properly. Remind me of why I'm better off without you.'

Jack looked devastated, but, with his voice and hands shaking, he obligingly began to talk.


	2. 2

Ianto had gotten used to having his sleep broken by early morning phone calls when he was with Torchwood, but since leaving, he'd come to enjoy, and rely upon getting, a full night's rest. So when the phone rang at two am, he was understandably annoyed.

'Jack,' he grunted without preamble when he picked up.

'How...?'

'No one else I know would be inconsiderate enough to call me at this time.'

'Oh, I didn't... You never used to sleep much.'

'That's because whenever I had a moment to myself, I was fucking you instead,' Ianto said, jamming the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he used his hands to push himself up.

'Don't remember hearing any complaints.'

'That's because there weren't,' Ianto retorted, settling himself against the headboard. 'Then. I repeat, what do you want?'

'It occurs to me that I've been a complete bastard.'

Ianto rolled his eyes, despite the fact Jack couldn't see him. 'That's only just occurred to you?'

There was silence – no mock hurt or defensive whine – and Ianto had just opened his mouth to ask if Jack was still there when the other man spoke.

'I've never said I was sorry. For leaving.'

Ianto's mouth snapped shut as Jack continued. 'I was... it was cowardly. I was mad with grief over Tosh and Owen, and so damn guilty because it was my fault.'

'Jack, it wasn't...'

'It was, Ianto. I brought the threat into the Hub, brought John and Grey into your lives and, when we were standing there listening to Tosh's message, all I could think was that one day – probably one day soon – I'd be listening to your beautiful voice telling me goodbye and I couldn't stand it.'

His voice broke and Ianto heard him clear his throat. 'I'm sorry for hurting you, for not talking to you first, for not taking you with me. But I'm not sorry with the way things turned out because it meant that you've been safe all these years when we both know that, if you'd stayed with Torchwood – with me – you would have been dead by now. I can't be sorry that you're still here.'

Ianto swallowed hard and attempted to slow his breathing, which had sped up during Jack's apology. There were no words, no quips, no dry witty remark. Even he – at his most resentful and furious – couldn't kick Jack when he was exposing himself, his heart, so completely.

A full twenty seconds of absolute silence passed then Jack said dully, 'If you really don't want me here, Ianto, I'll go. If there's no hope at all for us, I'll leave and this time, I'll stay away.'

Fear and anger collided and the resultant surge of emotion left him breathless with panic. 'You'll leave?' Ianto snapped, voice heavy with sarcasm as he tried to ignore the clenching in his gut at the thought of losing Jack again, losing him for good. He realised that he'd never really given up hope that Jack would return for him, and wasn't sure if that made him devoted or pathetic. 'That's not like you.'

There was another extended silence and Ianto sighed, staring blankly up at his ceiling. 'Jack, I... I don't know what I want. Seems to be the status quo when I'm around you.'

He listened to Jack's steady breathing as he prodded at the scars his old Jack-inflicted wounds had left behind. But like a flesh wound, the ache had eased with time, and the skin had healed, leaving only his mind's fickle recollection of the injury, of the pain that had accompanied it. Ianto squeezed his eyes shut tight when he realised that no amount of scarring would stop the gnawing want, would stop him wanting to take the same stupid chances over and over again.

'All I've ever wanted was you,' he whispered, shame and resentment flushing his cheeks. 'The one thing you could never give me.'

'I can give you that now,' Jack promised, voice low and urgent. 'I can give you what you want, Ianto. If you still want it.'

His heart was pounding so hard, so loud in his chest that Jack must have been able to hear it. 'That's the million dollar question, isn't it?' he said, a little bitterly because he'd been doing just fine before Jack came back and swept through his life like a hurricane and now his skin felt too tight and it hurt too much to breathe. 'Go to sleep, Jack. Give me some space, yeah.'

'Ianto, please...'

'Night, Jack.'

Ianto called in sick the next day, letting Jean know he probably wouldn't be in for the rest of the week. He lay in his bed, eyes closed as he listened wearily to her burst of anxious chatter about the difficulty of rearranging his schedule at such short notice. She finally began to lose momentum, and Ianto had opened his mouth to say goodbye when she added, 'And Captain Harkness has been sitting here waiting since I arrived...'

'What?' He shot up in bed, biting back a vividly descriptive curse when he heard a deep, amused voice in the background say, '...told you to call me Jack.'

Fury bubbled inside him like molten lava and he snapped out, 'Call Security and have him escorted off the premises. Call the police if he comes back. Oh, and tell Jack that if he doesn't stay the hell away from me that I'll find a way to make it stick. He'll know what I mean.'

He hung up on her shocked gasp at his uncharacteristic anger and flung himself back down onto the bed where he buried his face in his pillow and screamed until his throat was raw.

'That wasn't very nice,' a voice that only belonged in his nightmares or his wet dreams murmured from somewhere very close to Ianto's ear. 'If I didn't hear a similar threat once a week, I'd be offended.'

Ianto clung to the last vestiges of sleep, but they receded rapidly, leaving him mostly-awake, naked, and in bed with Jack Harkness; a situation he had sworn that he'd never find himself in again.

'Only once a week?' he grunted, rolling away from Jack and settling on his stomach. 'You must have mellowed.'

Jack was silent and Ianto raised his head off the pillow, twisting his neck to peer over his shoulder. Heat blazed through him - skin burning, blood on fire – when he saw Jack staring at the bare flesh of his back and arms with the greedy desperation of a starving man. He felt his cock – trapped between his abdomen and the mattress – swell, the hurried redirection of blood making his head spin.

'Jack, don't.'

Jack inhaled a shuddering breath and, with what appeared to be a great effort, wrenched his gaze away from Ianto and focused on the wall opposite. 'Sorry,' he said shakily, running a hand through his hair. 'You... you're beautiful, Ianto. More beautiful than I'd remembered. I want...'

'No, you don't, Jack,' Ianto whispered, staring at Jack's profile, his heart feeling like it was breaking all over again because he just couldn't do this, he couldn't let himself believe that Jack came back for him. Not this time. 'I can't be what you want. I thought I could be once, but... I can't redeem you, I can't save you. I'm not Gwen or Rose, and I never will be.'

Jack seemed taken aback. 'I know. I'm not asking for anything, for you to be anyone, but you, Ianto. I just want you.'

'You want me?'

'Always.'

'Jack,' he admonished sharply, bristling at the blatant untruth.

'Ianto, I have always wanted you. From that first night – you in that studded belt and tight jeans,' Jack insisted then shrugged one shoulder. 'I just... wouldn't let myself have you. Not completely. Not the way I wanted to.'

'So what's changed?' Ianto asked. 'What's stopping you from dumping me on some planet and fucking off with a better prospect?'

'Won't happen,' Jack said promptly. When Ianto raised a sceptical eyebrow, Jack lifted his chin stubbornly. 'I've been out there without you, Ianto. And now, I'm here. Begging you to let me stay. Begging you to come with me. I can't escape you, no matter how hard I try.'

'Did you try hard?' Ianto asked acerbically, and Jack's face turned stony.

'I had to. It hurt too much to think about you because then I remembered what I'd done to you, how I'd failed you, how I'd failed Tosh and Owen and Gwen... I had to try hard, Ianto. I had to get away, and the Doctor refused to take me anywhere if I kept killing myself to get a break from the Welsh vowels in my head.'

'Oh, Christ, Jack,' Ianto whispered, closing his eyes on the images of Jack's many deaths that played like a horror film in his head. He took a deep breath and looked up at the other man. 'So you're saying that you want me however you can have me?' he asked. Jack nodded. 'And it's that simple?'

'It can be if you want it to be,' Jack answered. 'I can stay here with you, or we can go and see the stars.'

'You never used to offer me anything but here and now,' Ianto murmured, staring at Jack. 'Where's that man now that I don't want promises and pretty words?'

'He realised he wants to share more than a moment of your life with you. He's realised that, while he can live without you, he doesn't want to.'

'Your words are like trinkets, Jack: beautiful, but ultimately, just stone and metal that tarnish and scratch and lose their shine,' Ianto said, turning over before he sat up, sheet pooling around his hips.

Jack held Ianto's gaze as he reached into his pocket. 'But if you take care of your trinkets...' He pulled out the stopwatch that had been put to nefarious use during their time together and a surprised exhale juddered from Ianto's lips, 'they can last for a lifetime.'

'You kept it,' Ianto breathed, touching the cover reverently, the silver warm from its proximity to Jack's body. 'I looked for it before I left...'

'I didn't want to forget you.' He smiled ruefully. 'Turns out that wasn't a problem.'

Ianto glanced up at Jack, swallowing hard against the words of forgiveness, of stay with me forever, blinking back the tears of acceptance, of please don't leave me again. 'How can I trust you?' he whispered. 'I've seen how easily you can walk away from the people you say you love.'

'Because I came back!'

The words burst from Jack like a detonation and then he was right there, straddling Ianto, caging his face in the hands Ianto still could still feel the ghost of inside him. 'I came back. I came back...' Each fervent exclamation was punctuated with a press of lips to the closest patch of skin, and Ianto couldn't hold back a sob, his shoulders shaking with the force with which it was expelled.

Jack's lips were on his in a moment, feeding promises and apologies and salty tears into Ianto's mouth, into his heart, and Ianto melted under the avalanche of emotion. He clutched at Jack's shirtfront as he deepened the kiss, pulling him in until their chests were pressing together, hearts pounding in tandem alongside each other.

Jack moaned into Ianto's mouth before his tongue swept past lips and teeth to stroke and tease. Ianto's fingers tightened around his fistful of fabric then let go, skimming over Jack's chest, over his shoulder, to tangle into the soft strands at his nape, thumbs rubbing over the hypersensitive skin behind Jack's ears. Jack gasped something incomprehensible against Ianto's lips then dragged them sideways, down onto the bed.

'Too many clothes,' Ianto complained when their mouths were torn apart by the movement. He plucked at Jack's buttons, his hands trembling too badly to be of any use. Jack's were almost as bad and, pretty soon, it became clear their attempts to rid Jack of his shirt in the traditional way were futile. Jack swore and gripped the material, ripping the sides apart. The buttons flew off and hit the bedside table in a shower of tinkling pings. Ianto left Jack to dispose of his own trousers, reaching across to search desperately through his drawers for lube and a condom.

It was clumsy and fumbling and over way too fast, but as Ianto panted against Jack's sweat-damp shoulder, his body quaking with the power of his release and Jack's come slick between their bellies, he knew that his life was never going to be as bright without Jack, that he was never going to feel whole without Jack.

Hot tears spilled over before he could stop them, falling to the bedding below. Jack was holding him close, holding him as if he was never going to let him go, but Ianto managed to pry a hand free to scrub at his face. Jack tipped his head back and slid his hands along Ianto's spine until they were cradling his jaw, tilting Ianto's face until they were face to face. Jack's eyes were watery as he slowly leaned in to kiss Ianto gently.

'There is you, and there is me, but, Ianto Jones, there will always be we,' he murmured, twisting Ianto's words from the day of their reunion. 'No matter how much we both fight it.'

They stayed in bed for the rest of the day: touching and kissing and, unusually, but with a startling lack of self-consciousness, making love instead of fucking. They spent hours relearning each other's bodies, time slowing as they remapped the subtle changes to territory they had once known by heart. They ate and drank when they began to feel light-headed, and chased rivulets of water over each other's stomachs, lapping it up as the drops were about to fall to the bed. They talked until they were hoarse, telling stories of adventures and conquests, and carefully avoided any mention of the elephant in the shape of a police box in the room.

Too soon, Jack gasped and closed his hand around the suddenly glowing TARDIS key on a chain around his neck, and Ianto realised that, despite the time of reckoning having arrived, he still wasn't certain what he was going to do.

'I can talk him into spending the night,' Jack said subduedly, dressing as if he was functioning in slow motion, 'but he'll want to go...'

'I'll have an answer in the morning,' Ianto promised. 'One way or another.'

Jack faltered at Ianto's last words, his fingers fumbling over the surviving buttons on his shirt. He finished his task then sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor for a long moment before he appeared to make a decision. He looked at Ianto, defenses down and heart unguarded.

'I've only ever loved one other person as much as I love you,' he said softly, but determinedly, for now, seemingly content to ignore the shocked expression on Ianto's face at the declaration. 'And it was easy to love him because I knew - deep down, I knew – that I could never have him. He was safe. It was okay to let myself feel for him because he could never be mine.'

He inhaled then let the breath go slowly. 'But you, well, you weren't safe or easy, and I could have you. You were right there and I could just reach out and take you. You scared me, Ianto, because you didn't react like you should have when I tried to scare you away with my immortality and my past. You didn't run away, and I sure as hell couldn't find the strength to push you away.' He gave Ianto a wistful smile. 'You'll break my heart, Ianto, but it'll be worth it. It'll be worth every single tear when you go if I get to have you, just for a little while.'

Ianto was speechless and trembling from the raw longing in Jack's voice. Jack smiled sadly and cupped Ianto's face in his warm palms, brushing his thumbs back and forth over Ianto's cheekbones before leaning in and kissing him – chaste and lingering. He pressed their brows together for the space of several heartbeats, noses bumping gently, breath mingling as it slipped past their lips. Jack sighed softly before pulling back far enough to tip Ianto's head so he could kiss his forehead then, without a backwards glance, he was gone.

Ianto collapsed back onto his pillows with only the pleasant ache and burn of his well-used muscles, and his intensely aching heart, to confirm that the last day hadn't been a vivid dream.

'H'lo?'

'Rhys, it's Ianto.'

'What... Ianto? Bloody hell, man. Do you know what time it is?'

Ianto swore under his breath as he checked the clock and did some rapid calculations in his head. 'Sorry,' he said repentantly. 'I forgot. I'll call back...'

'No, she's awake now and she'd never forgive me if...' There was the rustle of fabric and a murmured inquiry. 'It's Ianto. He said he'd call ba... okay. See you, Ianto.'

'Bye, Rhys. Sorry, again.'

'Ianto? Are you alright? What's happened?'

'Nothing. I'm fine. I'm sorry, Gwen. I just needed to talk to you and I forgot...'

'Oh, sweetheart, you can ring whenever you like. Ignore Rhys. He's moody because Tegan's cutting teeth and won't have a bar of me. Daddy's little girl, that one.'

'You're all fine, though? The boys...?'

'Team Williams doing just fine,' she assured him. He could hear her moving, could hear the crinkle of a crisp packet. 'How about Mr Jones? You don't usually need to talk to me so badly that you forget the time difference. You must be addled by all that sun.'

'Jack's back.'

There was a heavy silence, such a dense nothing that Ianto thought for a second that she'd hung up. 'When?' she finally asked, her voice low.

'A couple of days ago,' he told her and he could almost hear her bristle.

'And you're just calling now?'

'You said you didn't want to speak to him again.'

'So did you.'

Ianto sighed, rubbing at an eye with the heel of his hand. 'Gwen, I didn't ask him here; he just turned up. And I didn't mean to - er...'

'Oh, Ianto, love, you didn't! You didn't sleep with that bastard?'

Ianto closed his eyes and waited for the explosion as his silence answered her question. He winced at the pitch at which it arrived, holding the receiver a more comfortable distance from his ear as he listened to her extol all the reasons that getting involved with Jack Harkness again was a Very Bad Idea. As she wound down, he managed to get a word in.

'Don't you think I know all that? I told him to go and... God, Gwen, he asked if he could stay with me here, live with me.'

She made a noise very much like a hiss. 'Ianto, do you really think that Jack Harkness will settle...'

'I... I'm not sure,' he said quickly, before she could begin a fresh rant. 'He said he'll do whatever I want – stay here together, or go...'

'Go?' she said, voice sharp and high. 'Go where?'

He hesitated then said cautiously, 'With him... and the Doctor.'

Another thick silence in which he felt every single mile of the distance between them then, 'Leave Earth?'

'Yes.'

'You... Ianto, you can't. You have a life now, sweetheart. You have a business and friends and...'

'No Jack.'

She sighed. 'I know how tempting it must be, Ianto. I know how much you still miss him – so do I – but he left us,' she whispered, tears in her voice. 'He left us when we needed him the most, and he didn't even bother to say goodbye.'

'I know,' he said, just as softly.

'How can you let him back into your life? How can you trust him not to do the same thing again?'

'I can't.'

There was a long silence, Gwen's concern and fear palpable, even across continents and oceans. Finally, she asked, 'What are you going to do?'

It was Ianto's turn to sigh. 'I have no idea.'

Jack was standing in the doorway of the blue police box when Ianto stepped out into his backyard. They looked at each other as he approached, Jack obviously agitated by Ianto's lack of expression. 'Well?' he asked when Ianto reached him, looking like he wasn't sure that he wanted to hear the answer. 'What's it to be?'

Ianto pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, hunching his shoulders as he pretended to examine the phone box. 'Gwen thinks I'm mad for even giving you the time of day,' he said casually, watching for Jack's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Jack flashed one of those big, toothy smiles that didn't reach his eyes. 'Gwen's just mad I didn't come and see her first,' he joked weakly. 'She'll forgive me. No one can resist this jawline for too long.'

Ianto cocked his head, tilting his chin towards Jack. 'If I'd told you that I didn't want to see you, that I wouldn't even consider letting you back into my life, would you have given her the same offer?'

Jack shook his head, smile fading. 'No,' he said shortly. 'I didn't come back for her. Gwen has her life, and I have no part in it. Not anymore. And that's how it should be.' The corner of his mouth quirked up. 'You were never a substitute for her, Ianto, although the fact you still get jealous gives me hope that you really do still love me.'

Ianto was annoyed that his old insecurities were still so damned obvious and he wondered if he'd become that person again if he went with Jack. If he'd be that same Ianto Jones who was happy for whatever scraps of Jack he was thrown, who accepted Jack's every rule in regards to their relationship (which wasn't allowed to be called a relationship because everyone knew the world would fucking implode should they actually clarify what was going on) without a word of objection. If Jack stayed in his life, was he going to be the butler, the secretary, the shadow again?

'I lose myself when I'm with you, Jack,' he whispered, his confession shaky around the edges. 'I turn myself inside out to be what you want and I lose myself. I don't want to be that person again.'

For only the second time since he'd known him, Ianto saw true fear on Jack's face. 'Ianto, I don't want you to be the guy who takes my coat, or fetches me coffee, or makes food magically appear. I don't need a sidekick for my adventures,' he said emphatically. 'I want the man who loved so deeply, he tackled a pterodactyl. I want the man that made me work my arse off to get back into his good graces after I was stupid enough to leave him. I want the man who held me when I needed comfort, and who made me laugh harder than I had in years, and who was so damn frustrating sometimes that I wanted to scream.' He reached out as if to touch Ianto's arm then pulled back uncertainly. 'I want the stubborn, sarcastic, loyal, generous man that I fell a little bit more in love with every day.'

Ianto blinked and cleared his throat in an attempt to hide how deeply Jack's words had touched him. 'She... she was a pterodon,' he deflected, rubbing the back of his neck, and Jack smiled.

'Sorry, always got that wrong.'

Ianto stared at him, still not entirely certain he was about to do the right thing. 'You'd really stay? Give up everything...' He waved towards the sky, 'for me?'

Jack smiled that slow, intimate smile that made Ianto's blood heat and heart skip a beat, and inclined his head towards the TARDIS. 'I've got a bag packed – just in case you told me I could stay,' he said. 'And yes. I've got a long, long time to indulge my wanderlust, Ianto. Right now, for your lifetime, I want to be with you. Wherever that is. I need to be with you.'

'I don't need you,' Ianto said abruptly, surprised that he meant it. 'I used to think I did, but I don't.'

'I never thought you did. You've always been stronger and more capable than you thought you were, Ianto. So much stronger than me.' Jack bit at his lip then said tentatively, 'I guess this is where I ask if you want me.'

Ianto cupped Jack's face and kissed him, soft and sweet, before pulling back. 'I've never stopped.'

Jack's eyes shone a little too brightly then he was kissing Ianto, pushing him up against the phone box when the slow, powerful kiss made Ianto boneless. When they finally parted, his hoarse whisper of, 'Ianto?', was more desperate and pleading than Ianto had ever heard him sound.

Ianto pushed him back a little and cocked his head, gazing at Jack in consideration. 'I am not, nor will I ever be, amenable to a threesome with the Doctor.'

'Understood,' said Jack promptly. 'To be honest, I don't fancy him much anyway these days. He looks like a teenager and he makes me feel old.'

'You are old,' came a muffled shout from the police box.

'It's rude to eavesdrop!' Jack yelled back, his eyes never leaving Ianto. 'Does this mean...?'

Ianto pushed off the TARDIS and walked slowly back towards the house, his stride becoming more sure with each step. He opened the back door and hefted a straining-at-the-seams backpack over his shoulder before locking the door. He spun on his heel and smiled at a beaming Jack.

'I was always a sucker for a trinket,' he said as he walked towards Jack. His smile faltered a little, though, as Jack reached for the pack, a blinding grin on his face. 'Jack...'

Jack's hand changed course and instead, he brushed the back of his fingers against Ianto's cheek. 'I'll never let us rust or tarnish, Ianto,' he said quietly, his gaze burning with intensity and promise. 'I swear.'

Ianto inhaled deeply then nodded decisively, handing the stuffed backpack to Jack. Jack smiled and slung it over his shoulder, wrapping his other arm around Ianto's waist. 'Thank you,' he said softly, pulling Ianto in close to his side. Their lips met in a sweet kiss that turned Ianto's insides into liquid. 'You won't regret it.'

Ianto grinned then turned to the TARDIS, butterflies taking flight in his stomach as the full gravity of what he was about to do hit him. 'No,' he murmured as the door was flung open. 'No, I don't think I will.'

fin.


End file.
